


Burdens

by jackdawq



Category: Persona 4
Genre: December angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackdawq/pseuds/jackdawq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s what they do for each other, or at least he likes to think so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burdens

Thursday was their first run inside Magatsu Inaba. They barely made it out.

They broke the one firm rule Souji-senpai set: don't get split up. A group of shadows routed them, him and Naoto ending up on one side with Senpai and Ted on the other, and they'd had to run. Except it wasn't so much running as limping. It's Sunday now and Kanji swears his ears are still ringing, and the throbbing in his leg still hasn't faded.

Stupid. Naoto's small and fast; she could've dodged the hit. Instead she wound up trying to haul him through Magatsu Inaba, his right arm draped over her shoulders and Rise guiding them back. Kanji was terrified he'd accidentally put his hand somewhere he shouldn't - which could be anywhere with Naoto - so he kept pulling away. Naoto snapped at him for it, then at Yosuke and Chie when they came to help because they'd left Rise and Yukiko alone. After that Souji and Ted came barreling round the corner, running away from another shadow, and everyone scattered again. Kanji remembers Chie yelling a streak at Yosuke as the two of them practically dragged him back to the entrance.

That was just the first floor.

Could've been worse, though. He'd wanted to rush in straight after they met Adachi inside that dingy bedroom. He could rationalize it now if he wanted - say he'd figured it was best to chase the bastard while they had a chance of catching him - but honestly, he'd just been pissed off. Naoto had been the one to talk him down.

It's what they do for each other, or at least he likes to think so.

* * *

Kanji's been coming home on time every night since May, except the obvious ones. Each time he's back late from Junes and Ma asks where he's been, he tells her he was at sewing club. First time he said it, she gave him this _look_ , like she thought he might be in trouble again. Then she covered it with a smile and said she was proud of him. It's not _that_ bad a lie, because she might still be proud of him if she knew the truth and it beats not coming home at all - or worse, her having to pick him up from the cop shop.

He's going to tell her the same thing tonight. She definitely wouldn't understand the real reason, which is that he's been standing by the lockers for twenty-five minutes waiting for Naoto to come pick up her shoes. It's foggy and he wants to walk her home, even though she has her glasses and she'd probably just shoot anyone who came after her.

Kanji hasn't actually asked her if he can, of course, but they haven't really talked since Thursday and from what he knows she isn't speaking much with anyone else. She'll come up to him, another twenty minutes later, and ask why he's still at school. "Sewing club," he'll tell her, and fiddle with the catch on his shoe locker until she leaves.

* * *

He does the same thing the next afternoon, except he stays in the classroom because his leg's aching and he's not going to ask her anyway. But Kanji likes to think he will - hey, he likes to think a lot of things - so he waits around anyway, trying to figure out when half of what he does and says and thinks got tied up in this other person who doesn't really care about him, not in the way he wants.

Sometimes he - no, there's no way he hates her. There's got to be a better way to describe it and Naoto could probably tell him if he asked. _Yo, Naoto, I can't stand hanging on everything you say, they got a word for that?_

Tangled in his thoughts, he doesn't really notice the footsteps in the corridor. He just hears the classroom door creak open, then looks up to see Naoto in the doorway with her bookbag at her side. "Kanji-kun."

"S'up?" he manages, shifting in his seat as she walks over.

Naoto glances down at his legs, poking out from under the other side of the desk. Never make the damn things in his size. Naoto's feet barely touch the floor when she's sitting at hers.

Her head turns towards the window. "We will be entering the television tomorrow. You should return home and rest."

"Yeah. No worries."

She nods, then sets her bookbag on the floor by her feet. "Why are you still here?" she asks.

_Sewing club_ , he almost says. "N-nothing. No reason. Just thinking."

Naoto looks at him then. Only for a couple of seconds, except it feels like forever because she doesn't say anything.

"Why did you…" She shakes her head. "You behaved irresponsibly. Conduct yourself with more care."

Kanji's learned to listen, because even if she knows a ton of them, what matters with Naoto aren't the words she uses. "S'fine," he says. "Yukiko-senpai healed it up, it don't hurt now."

Naoto opens her mouth slightly, like she's going to say something, then closes it again.

Kanji waits.

When she finally wrenches out some words to match the motion, her voice is low and uneven. "I - apologize, Kanji-kun. I miscalculated."

He leans forward, fists resting on the desk. "Hey…we made it back, yeah? Ted and Senpai, too."

"Barely."

"But we _did_. And, and we'll do it again, right?"

"Adachi's world…he's powerful." Naoto's staring out the window again. "More than Namatame. Far more than us. I don't know - there's a chance we will--"

The sentence stops dead. She tugs off her cap, runs a hand through her hair, puts the cap back on. Tips her head down, slightly, staring at a point halfway between the floor and the surface of the desk.

Kanji watches - but what he wants to do is push back the chair, stand up, and just give her a damn hug.

What he wants to ask is, _are you as scared as I am._

Both ideas are stupid. It's Naoto. Cool, collected, controlled, a list of adjectives he'll never apply to himself. Except it all tumbles down sometimes, or it did once. Kanji's always hated hospitals; nobody's ever there for a happy reason and the unhappy ones strip away too much. Then you end up coming down hard on someone when they're choking up for once in their damn life, because they're supposed to always have it together and you don't know how to—

"You can't…you _must_ refrain from rash decisions." Naoto lifts her head. "I can't afford them."

If it's a slip, she doesn't notice. Kanji does, and he stores it away with the rest.

He swallows. "Yeah. Sorry. Wasn't thinking." Then he pulls back his chair and stands up. "So…t-tomorrow, right?"

She nods. "Souji-senpai and I have a new strategy. A reserve team, closely following the main."

Kanji's observant, but he isn't smart. He knows that. So he leaves the planning to Souji and Naoto, and tries to pretend that the ‘and' doesn't set his teeth on edge.

"Sounds good," he says.

"‘Good' does not mean ‘good enough'. Adachi - he isn't going to walk away at the end, Kanji." Naoto lets out a long breath; there's a shake in it that turns his stomach. They were at eye level while he was sitting, but now he can't see a thing under that damn cap. Kanji knows what he _should_ do here, if this was anyone else except her and if he could just grow a damn spine. But it is and he hasn't, so his left hand edges from his side to his waist to her shoulder before clamping down harder than he means.

Naoto glances up at him, eyes still barely visible under her cap, then away. Her muscles stiffen beneath his fingers.

"It's okay, y'know?" he says.

When she doesn't answer, Kanji lifts his right hand and tips up her cap. The hand slides down to her other shoulder and she looks up again. He swears her cheeks are pinker than usual.

"Of course." Naoto holds his gaze and it feels like forever again. Then she places her hands over his.

It's not a hug. It's something stilted and halfway, like everything between them. Kanji's doesn't know if there's a _between_ at all, if his mental collection of moments and glances adds up to anything more than that.

"We're gonna be fine," he tells her. He'd like to think it's true, but the ache in his chest makes him wonder.


End file.
